


Kylo Ren One-Shots

by DandyAceInSpace



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Blood Kink, Daddy Kink, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:09:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandyAceInSpace/pseuds/DandyAceInSpace
Summary: All of my Kylo Ren x Reader one-shots from Tumblr





	1. Daddy Kink Sentence Starters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: 2, 6, and/or 25 for kylo ;)) loooooove your writing btw like 🖤🖤 its to die for
> 
> #2: “Let Daddy peek under your skirt”  
> #6: “Show Daddy those pretty tits.”

His hand snakes its way around your waist, giving a gentle squeeze to the flesh of your hip.

“General, might I steal her for a moment?” His voice is low and demanding. Even though it was posed as a question, Kylo fully meant it as an order to leave.

You watch as Hux bites back his disappointment and annoyance. Instead, he respectfully nods, “As you wish, Supreme Leader,” and steps away from you two in search of a drink. Though you aren’t looking at him, you know that Kylo is smirking as he watches Hux leave. You roll your eyes. You’ll never understand the animosity between the two.

“Bored already?” You taunt as you lean into his side. The fabric of his suit is soft and velvety like the petals of a flower. It’s a nice contrast to the hellish material of your dress, pinching in the worst areas. You can’t wait to return to your hotel to remove it, before slipping into the lavish bathtub. The thought of the little jets massaging out your tense muscles almost has you drooling.

“You aren’t?” He asks with astonishment, pulling you from your fantasies. He’s walking now, dragging you across the polished onyx floors whether you want to follow or not. You glare at him in frustration when you trip over the air from his initial tug. He pays you no more attention than to smirk in his own self-satisfaction.

You easily escape the showroom without a second thought. Nobody would dare try to question him. Nobody would question him if they saw him doing what he was doing now, taking you to the shadows of a dead end hallway. A window allows for some rays of moonlight to filter through, illuminating his already pale skin in a smokey brilliance.

The hand on your hip slides only centimeters down, his fingers curling under the hem of your dress. He’s not gentle when he pulls the fabric up, already exposing your lackluster underwear to the cold air.

“ **Let Daddy peek under your skirt** ,” he nearly growls when you pull his hand away.

“What? Kylo, no! We’re in public!” You hiss, fighting to keep his hands at his sides.

“Good, let them see who you belong to,” he counters, pinning you between the wall and his chest, “Now stop being a bad girl.”

There’s no winning with him. While, yes, you were planning on fucking him into another dimension when you got out of your bath, it was to be away from prying eyes. Away from having to keep quiet and return to work with cum dripping down your thighs. He doesn’t seem to understand the idea of a vacation.

“Fine,” you huff, “but you are  _so_ rubbing my feet later.”

He slips from the character he made for himself, breaking out into a smile. He kisses the top of your head, whispering with hot breath against your skin, “Whatever you want, baby girl.”

You smile to yourself, forgetting the worry of being spotted for a moment as he lifts you up. Still pressed to the wall, he wraps your legs around his waist, grinding the beginnings of an erection into your core. He slips back into his previous persona easily, muttering to no one in particular, “Stars, I can’t wait to feel your pretty little cunt around me. You fit so perfectly, so tight, you were made just for me.”

He presses wet and sloppy kisses to your neck, nipping the skin to cover you in invisible territorial marks. You take hold of his face in your hands, thumb gingerly tracing over the scar that adorns his face.

When he had first came back to you with his newfound defacement, your blood was boiling. Truthfully, you couldn’t give a damn about the light or the dark. All you felt was an intense need to protect, to defend the man you loved most. He fretted so much throughout the healing process. Worried you would love him less, find him impure or think him akin to a monster. Which is why you take so much care into touching the jagged line, flittering kisses along its reach and making sure he knows that he’s far from disgusting.

There’s no struggle in his movements as he trails a hand up your arm and to your shoulder. After at least ten years of training, Kylo was more muscle than man, which is why he can easily support your weight with one hand. He pinches the skin on the back of your thigh, capturing your lips with his so that he may swallow your squeal of protest.

“Pay attention to me,” he demands when he pulls away, “Don’t you let your thoughts wander away again.”

Oh, yes, you forgot he can read your mind.

Again, he pinches your thigh.

“What did I  _just_ say, baby?”

“I’m sorry…” you whisper to him, brushing your thumb over the scar again. He turns his head slightly to the side, planting a gentle kiss on your palm.

“Good girl,” he praises as his hand pulls the thin strap of your dress off your shoulder, “Now,  **show Daddy those pretty tits**  .”

You help him shuffle the other strap off your shoulder, pushing the fabric of your dress down so that it bunches up under your breasts. He smirks when he sees you don’t have a bra on underneath.

“My, my, all ready for me? How did you know Daddy was gonna suck on your precious tits?” He jeers.

The situation you’re in seems to hit you all at once. A blush creeps up your body, contradicting the cold atmosphere that causes your nipples to stiffen. A needy pulse spreads from your stomach to your groin, aching for him. You release your first moan when he carefully tugs one of your hardened buds. It swells with arousal, turning redder and brighter by the second. He chuckles at your break, ready to begin his true fun.

His hand effortlessly encompasses your breast, tracing around your nipple with his thumb. With, perhaps too much, delight he lowers his head, nurturing your other bud with his tongue. Despite all of his talk, he has no bite. He’s lovingly caressing each of your breasts as if each one was a billion credit masterpiece.

The atmosphere is hot and thick with each of your building arousals. A moan or plea will cut through the air, creating a brief fresh breath, but it quickly disappears, suffocating you both in a humid climax. Your face is flushed with heat while his own shines with a thin coat of sweat. You love it when he’s like this. Him being able to bring you to your own release is just his foreplay. It gets him unexplainably hard, knowing that he’s able to please you and make you feel so  _so_ good.

Lost in the paradise that is the other person, neither of you hear the echoing footsteps that approach.

“Supreme Leader, Y/N, they’re about to announce-” Hux’s voice starts off confident but quickly fades out as he becomes closer.

Kylo groans angrily before his mouth departs with a wet pop. Immediately your hands fly up to cover your breasts, and you look at the ceiling, the floor, and the window. Anywhere that isn’t Hux’s face.

“Can’t you see we’re busy?” Kylo grumbles, wiping a string of saliva from his lip.

You can’t begin to imagine Hux’s horrified expression, but considering the frantic pace of his footsteps and the fact that he had no sarcastic comment, you were betting on horrendously mortified.

Kylo sets you back down on the floor, fixing your straps back around your shoulders and pulling your dress down to cover you once again. He straightens out the fabric for a few seconds before nodding at his handiwork.

“Alright,” he mutters, sliding his hand back around your waist, “I suppose I’ll have to finish you later.”

With a look of messy hair and a slap to your ass, Kylo’s pulling you back into the crowd, much to his behest.


	2. Blunt Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be read as Kylo Ren or Ben Solo.

"Do you have any chips or cookies...? Anything besides your stupid goldfish crackers?" A deep voice asked from your kitchen, disgruntled as it practically tore your pantry apart.

"Are you fucking serious?" You call to him. You can't believe this. It hadn't even be twenty minutes and he was acting like a starved dog. "You took, like, two hits you fucking lightweight!"

He returns to his spot on the sofa next to you, with a buffet of junk food in his hands. You manage to make out five bags of gummies, two granola bars, and three separate bags of goldfish crackers. The ones that he, oh so apparently, hated.

"I can't help it," he says as he tears the corner off a pack of gummies, "I'm not a druggie like you."

You look at him with your mouth slightly agape. He was tipping the bag of gummies into his mouth as you stared him down. You let out a scoff of amusement at you shove his shoulder, making a few gummies miss their target and fall into his lap. "Rethink that statement, Solo." You wave your hands mystically as if you were a cheesy animated witch in a kid's cartoon. "For you have fallen to the Dark Side of civilian life by engaging in the horror's of... the devil's lettuce."

He can't help but laugh at you. You join him in his laughter. It had always been like this between you two. He felt like the one person you could be comfortable around, and while Rey said she didn't mind you smoking, you never failed to catch her glare when your clothes smelled a little herby.

You reach for a granola bar, but he quickly jumps to slap your hand away. You look up to him as you retract your hand, cradling it with the unassualted one. "What the hell!?" He merely grins at you, brown eyes twinkling with amusement. His pupils are wide, locked into you. His grin relaxes into a content smile as he leans forward to rest his forehead on yours.

Stifling back a giggle, you pull back slightly to push his messy hair out of the way before reconnecting foreheads. "You okay?" You ask tentatively. He obviously seems alright, and a wild train of thought is common in his current state of mind. Still, it's better to check. A friend of yours once got that same glossy eyed stare before vomiting in front of you. While you love him dearly, you'll never let him live it down if he pukes on you.

"Yeah, yeah..." He whispers. It's very hushed, only meant for you to hear. Everything melts away in that moment. The hum of the television fades away, the lights of the city outside the window dim. The world disappears, and you're left with your whole universe. He looks up through his stupidly long lashes. Damn men and their perfect eyelashes. He looks relaxed, which is what you were hoping for when you originally suggested the idea to him. He'd been stressed. Problems back home is what he told you.

He pulls you out of your thoughts with a gentle kiss. Nothing short of loving. A grounding kiss that he uses to tell you how much he needs you. How much he loves you. You place a hand on his cheek, thumb grazing softly against his cheekbone as you grin into his lips.

When you part, he reaches behind him and holds up the forgotten granola bar for you to take. You let out a breathy chuckle, taking it from him. You snuggle up next to him, his arm around your shoulder as you share the snack. You could spend eternity like this. You, him, and the pleasant hum in your bodies.


	3. Cold Canvas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: NSFW (No smut; just content), Blood Kink, Brief mention of torture and murder
> 
> This is a very self-indulgent piece involving blood. Please read at your own risk.

“Are you ready for this?” His voice is calm, collected, and soothing. Even though it was your idea, he wants you to know that you can back out at any time. You can tell him to stop and he'll listen. Something tells you he's more excited about this than you are. It's a breath of fresh air, to know that you won't be alone anymore. You won't be alone in the sick and depraved world the two of you create.

 

“Is it fresh?” You curiously ask. He hums in delight at your question, breaking into a smirk as he leans against the barrier of the tub. His skin is almost as milky white as the porcelain, save for the dark stars of moles littering his skin. He's only in a pair of First Order commanded solid black briefs, with the silver of a chain necklace crinkling with his movements. The ring hooked around the chain glimmers softly in the sterile white light his bathroom offers.

 

“As fresh as can be. I did have them put it on ice after I collected it.” He’s amused, his index finger swirling along the rim of the glass. It sings in response, the dark liquid inside reverberating from its tune.

 

Your hand delicately travels to your matching necklace, carefully toying with the ring with your thumb and forefinger. A promise. A promise to always be by your side.

 

“Did you kill him?” You barely, meekly, question as you glance up to him.

 

“No,” he answers matter of factly with a shake of his head, “However, your… desire makes for quite the effective torture method.” He smirks again at the end of the sentence, his free hand gently caressing your calf.

 

You bite your lower lip before nodding your consent for him to start. He reaches for your unoccupied hand, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

 

“I want to hear you say I can start.” He murmurs against your skin.

 

“Please, Kylo, begin.” Is all you can really think to say.

 

It's his turn to nod, eyes twinkling as he drinks in the sight of you. Your chest is already exposed, it prevents messes, only covered by the black panties that will forbid staining.

 

He dips his first two fingers into the liquid, watching as it pools around them, and drips from them in a long line when he removes them. It's dark, thick, and crimson. It's screaming your name. He paints a test stripe along the top of your thigh. The dark hue fades into a bright cherry red against your skin as he thins the substance out.

 

“How's that?” He whispers in both awe and slight fear. Awe at the woman he has before him, letting him paint her with the blood of his enemies. In fear because she was the one to ask it of him. How beautifully wicked she is, how deeply dark sided.

 

“More,” you whisper back, “more.”

 

He happily obliges, picking up far more liquid this time. He rubs his palm together, coating his hand in this forbidden liquid lust. He tentatively placed his hand on your stomach, it's sheer size easily taking up most of the flesh.

 

It was an odd feeling. The blood itself was cool but his skin was warm. It was sticky yet slippery at the same time. ‘The perfect medium for the perfect canvas’ he had confessed to you one night. He left out the part where he was the perfect artist. The perfect one to mold your body into his vision, but never his whim.

 

He removes his hand, admiring the gentle life you give to the imprint with the rhythm of your breathing. “You're radiant.”

 

You giggle at his lost-in-love look. He glances up at you with a falter in his facade. An unsure, boyish smile decorating his lips. You lean towards him, one hand on his shoulder as you meet for a kiss. It's soft and sweet, something reserved only for you in the dead of night. You remain close to him, only a foot of space between you. He needs to see you piece by piece because you know the sight of your entire being coated in the physical manifestation of his hatred will drive him over the edge. You need him here, devoted to you with his consent to own his heart.

 

His hand connects with your stomach again, more of the crimson liquid coating his hand. It pools around his fingers, gravity causing droplets to run agonizingly slow down your skin. He slides his hand up between the valley of your breasts, watching as the strokes fade the farther his hand goes. He quickly coats his hand with the blood again, restless for the sight of Lilith in the flesh. Hesitantly, he brings his hand towards your face, holding your chin as if you might disappear at any moment.

 

The smell of the blood is overwhelming to your senses. It always smells riveting, but you do admit, fresh blood has a certain je ne sais quoi.

 

His eyes glance down to your lips and back up to your eyes, silently asking for permission. You give him a small closed-lip smile, nodding. That childish smile returns, pressing his thumb against your lips. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh in contentment as you press into his touch. The liquid easily stains your upper lip as he traces it over the flesh. His skin is rugged with callouses from all of his years of training, but his touch is light and soft like he’s practicing his calligraphy. In this moment you find truth to his words. Your skin is his perfect canvas. All he’s wanted was something, or someone, that brought his dreams and ideas to reality. As he delineated your body in his anguish, his past, and sorrow, you realize that he’s found it in you. A woman who doesn’t shy away from the murder and gore that his life always brings. A stable grounding that loves him as much as he loves you.

 

His thumb falls to your lower lip, spreading the sanguine elixir there as well. His tongue faintly peeks out from between his own lips in determination. Your lips part and you have to stifle the laugh that threatens to burst when you see that glorious twinkle in his eye.

 

His voice cuts the moment, “What?”

 

You allow a small giggle to escape as you brush his hair back behind his ear. “I’m just so lucky to have you.”

 

He smiles before sharing a hungry kiss with your bloodied mouth. Neither of you finds disgust in the metallic taste. In fact, he grows more needy, wrapping one hand around your waist and pulling you closer by the small of your back. The jostling causes him to fumble, the blood spilling from the glass onto your stomach and thighs. The ivory of the tub and his skin is decorated in splatters, some bold and bright while others beg subtly.

 

You hear him quietly curse himself, setting the glass on the floor next to the tub. His rests his hands on the top of your thighs, thumbs sliding in smooth circles in the liquid.

 

“All that blood… _wasted_ ,” he hisses.

 

You tut, placing your hands on top of his with a smirk. He looks at you curiously as you guide them through the red sea, growing with passion as you watch his hands become coated. “My dear love,” you whisper, sliding his hands up your stomach and to your breasts where you encourage his embrace, “you have much to learn.”


	4. Triplet Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first smutty fic I ever wrote, ah, good memories

You don't know how anybody could drown him out. He is loud, he is obnoxious, but the worst crime of all is how utterly  _hot_ he is. He has long and wavy brown hair that just calls for you to twist it around your fingers. His plump and pouty lips are just begging for kisses. Lastly, as he stares you down from across the bar, his eyes are begging for  _you_.

For the first time during the night, it seems he has the decency to  _shut up_ and finally approach you. He's ungodly tall, towering over you in your swiveling bar stool.

“What's your name?” He asks, his breath coated with beer.

“Y/N,” you answer. You decide not to give him your last name.

“What about you, handsome?” The nickname feels weird rolling off your tongue, but he pays no mind to it.

“Ben. Ben Solo.” He says. He has this twinkle in his eye like he knows what you're about to ask next. Like he knows how this evening plans to go.

“Care to see a girl out?” You ask with a small smile. Truthfully, you were going to ask him to fuck you until you couldn't walk. However, that cocky smile of his just encouraged you to make him beg for it.

He seems taken aback but quickly nods, placing his hand on your lower back. He helps to push you through the drunken crowd and out the door until you reach your car.

Now, he has this desperate look about him. He wants you to invite him to your home, or at least into your car to satisfy both of each other's needs. But you know he'll be here next week, ready and waiting, so you hop into your car without another word. As you pull out of the parking lot and wave goodbye to him, you hope he thinks of you when he showers.

The week flies by, and now you feel up to claiming this needy man. The music thumps throughout your body, syncing to your heartbeat as you scan the bar for him. All you need is to find the tallest man in the bar and to your luck, he seems to be hiding in the corner, leaning against the wall.

Wavy hair? Check. Pale skin dotted with moles? Check. All black clothing? Che- wait, no. Ben dressed in earthy tones, and this man was covered in black from head to toe.

You stand from your seat, cocktail in hand as you wait for him to notice you. He does, you lock eyes, but he just goes back to staring at his phone. Annoyed, you make your way over, dodging through the sweaty bodies of the dancefloor.

“Going for the bad boy look tonight?” You ask once you're close enough to his secluded corner.

“Excuse me?” He says, confused and upset with you invading his space.

“I mean, I don't blame you. It's a good look, but I don't know if it suits your natural frat boy personality.” You half shout so that he can hear you.

“Listen, lady, I don't know who the fuck you think I am but you desperately need to watch your mouth.” He scolds you before pushing himself off of the wall. He disappears into the crowd and for the second week in a row, you're left alone with an ache between your legs.

You decide to give it one more week before completely giving up on Ben. Again, you find yourself waiting in the same seat, looking through the crowd for a tall man. And yet again, you spot a tall man with moles that dot his face, talking idly with the bartender. This time, however, his hair is as yellow as the sun and he has thin-framed glasses that are pushed tightly up against his nose.

You mutter under your breath. Ben has to be fucking with you. This has to be payback for how you practically undressed him with your eyes, yet still left him to pleasure himself with his hand.

This Ben-in-a-blonde-wig takes the seat next to you after he finishes his talk with the bartender. He tries to stumble out a sentence, something akin to asking how your day was, before settling with a shy, “Hello…”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” You ask. His face flushes and he looks around the bar before meeting your gaze again.

“Who, me?” He says dumbfoundedly as he points to himself.

“Yes, you,” You answer, your grip on your drink tightening, “Is this because I gave you blue balls?”

His blush turns darker after that and he avoids your gaze, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Cut it out, Ben! I'm serious!” You are silently pleading with him. Silently pleading that he would just let you ride him already.

“I'm serious too, Miss, I haven't the faintest-"

You interrupt him with a groan, rolling your eyes. Pulling your purse to your lap, you dig around for a couple of bills. You slam them to the counter, leaving the Ben look alike and an unfinished drink behind.

You don't return to the bar for a couple of weeks. The last thing you need in the moment is Ben is some new wig making a fool out of you. Unfortunately, the craving for a drink and the familiar burn in your loins has you crawling back to your usual seat.

The night goes smoothly for the most part. The music isn't too loud and the bar isn't crowded. You had a few guys hit on you, who you politely turned down, as they weren't really your type. The bartender makes her way over to you, asking if you want a refill.

“Oh sure,” you sigh, “Why not?”

“Perhaps it’s none-ah my business but,” She says as she mixes you another drink, “What's got you down, sweetheart?”

“Just some guy…” You trail off as you watch the pink slush being poured into your glass.

The bartender giggles, “Seems to be the cause of most gal’s troubles. What'd he do?”

You chuckle, “I gave him blue balls. So he decides to dress as alternate versions of himself to get back at me.”

“Alternate versions of himself?” She looks at you confused.

“Well, his normal self- has gorgeous long hair, with moles that freckle his skin. He's got this stunning smile that shows off his dimples. Then he decides to show up in a black wig and all black clothes, but I know those eyes and moles. His last disguise was ridiculous, he had on this horrendous blonde wig and fake glasses. Anybody could see through that.” You say, taking a sip of your drink afterward.

“Yous mean the triplets?”

You have to keep yourself from spitting out your drink. Instead, you force it down and end up in a small coughing fit. You pat your chest to encourage anything left to come up before you look up at her.

“Triplets?” You ask in a hushed voice. The door opens, something you wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't as empty as it was tonight. The bartender nods towards the door. You swing around in your chair, and there the three of them stand in all of their glory. Immediately, you swing back to face the bartender. She smirks and you bite your lips. Their footsteps are audible and they're approaching you.

“Yous in trouble,” the bartender laughs before walking away. You silently plead for her not to leave you alone but it falls on deaf ears.

Ben takes the seat to your left, while the other unnamed two sit to your right.

“Well, look who's here boys,” Ben smirks as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You look between the three of them, trying to assure yourself that this is happening.

“What the fuck is going on here?” You ask and the three brothers share a laugh.

“You see, Y/N,” Ben starts, “After you so rudely left me alone, I thought that you weren't interested, so I told my brother's about you.” He nods towards the other two.

You meet the gaze of the one still in all black. “That there is Kylo, he was the first to try,” Ben explains.

Kylo looks you up and down before sneering at you, “But you insulted my style so I passed.”

Ben then nods to the blonde, who looks uncomfortable to be here. “And that is Matt, poor soul hasn't been laid, we figured you'd jump at the chance to pop his cherry.”

Matt pushes his glasses back into place before clearing his throat, “But you wouldn't let me get a word in.”

You stare at the three of them in disbelief, before looking back at Ben. “If this is revenge, then I get it-"

“Oh no, this ain't revenge,” He said, leaning against the counter with one arm propped against it, “We decided it would be a waste of you didn't get with at least one of us, so now you can get with all of us.”

You felt sick. No doubt that the idea of this foursome excited you, but it happened so fast. Your head was whirling with possibilities and your stomach bubbled with butterflies and alcohol.

“You don't have to if you don't want-" Matt pipes up.

“No… no. This is going to happen.” You say as you carefully stand from your seat. You take a deep breath and your stomach calms down, seemingly happy with your decision. “Let's go.” You pull your keys from your purse, heading towards the door. The boys remain seated, sharing a glance with each other. They silently congratulate each other before following behind you, each one excited for their own reasons.

They all pile into your car and you thank the heavens that you don't live that far away. You don't know if your tiny car could handle a long ride with all three of them. Then again, you don't know if you can either.

You don't really exchange any words with them as you show them up to your apartment. You all discard your shoes by the door and offer them any refreshments, not sure what the protocol is for these types of arrangements.

They all deny the offer, so you lead them to your bedroom. You don't bother to turn the light on.

“You said Matt hasn't gotten laid before?” You ask as you grab Matt's hands to pull him towards your bed. Ben and Kylo simultaneously nod as Matt shuffles towards your bed. You have him sit on the edge, taking his face in your hands as you straddle him.

“Let's change that, shall we?” You whisper more so to Matt than the others. He eagerly nods.

You press a few kisses to his skin to get him used to the feeling of your lips, trailing them from his cheeks down his neck. His breath hitches in his throat and he grabs your hips. His hands curiously squeeze at the flesh, testing how it molded to the curves of his palms.

You meet his lips with yours and it's… sloppy to say the least. He doesn't know how to meet your pace nor does he know when his tongue is too much. It's a little gross but it's endearing at the same time. You carefully lace your fingers into his hair and pull him back, saliva trailing between you two.

You can hear his brothers snicker at Matt’s lack of experience, but you shoot them a glare that shuts them up.

“Are you two going to join or are you just going to stand there with your hands in your pants?” You teasingly ask, and they both grumble in response.

You have Matt scoot farther up the bed so that he's resting against the headboard. You undo the buttons to his dress shirt, peppering kisses along his skin as you expose it

Kylo and Ben both discard their shirts before joining you on the bed. Ben is kneeling behind you, placing kisses on your neck. Kylo is to your right, his hand trailing down your stomach to the hem of your pants.

Both of them are teasing you slowly, and you feel the bulge in Matt's pants growing. You grind down on it for the friction, both you and Matt letting out a small groan.

Kylo’s hand slips past the waistband of your panties, finding your sensitive clit and rubbing small circles around it. You close your eyes, leaning your head back against Ben's shoulder. Ben smirks, pushing you slightly forward so he can pull your shirt up over your head. He then encourages Matt to sit up. Matt does and Ben grabs his hands to guide them to the clasps of your bra. You feel his hands fumble around with the fabric. His brow is furrowed and he has a determined look on his face, tongue poking out between his lips as he works on your bra. He finally has it figured out and he's sliding it off of you with ease. He tosses it to the side before taking a stiff nipple into his mouth. He gently swirls his tongue around it, and you curl your fingers into his hair.

“Yes, Matt, just like that…” You trail off, biting your lip as another moan escapes your throat.

Ben takes a hold of your other breast, squeezing and rolling the bud between his fingers. You buck into Kylo’s hand and he lets out an amused chuckle. His hand slips from your clit down to your entrance, where he teasingly slides one finger in.

It's at this point that you become hyper-aware at your current position. You have three boys, no-  _men,_ currently hellbent on pleasuring you. They will do whatever you say so long as you don't leave them. You smile to yourself.

Carefully, you tap Matt's cheek before pulling him back from your chest. He departs with a resounding  _pop!_ from your breast and stares up at you wide-eyed. He looks lost as if he couldn't understand why you wouldn't let him enjoy himself. You simply smile at the poor boy before leaning down to give him another soft kiss. It seems your lips make up for it because he's hungrily devouring you.

You have Kylo retreat his fingers from you, a feeling which has you desperately clenching. Ben helps you remove your jeans and underwear, adding to the growing pile of discarded clothes. You carefully, and slowly, undo the button and zipper to Matt's pants. His boxers are decorated with pictures of cats and you have to bite back a chuckle. Ben and Kylo, however, don't hold back.

“Seems like you really dressed for the occasion, huh?” Kylo teases, and you slap your hand against his chest as a warning.

Matt blushes, looking off to the side, “Shut up, you guys!”

He looks so damn adorable with his ruffled hair and crooked glasses. You place your hand on the side of his face and have him look back up at you. You make sure he watches you as you pull his boxers down, his cock springing free. You wrap your hand around it, using your thumb to smear his precum around the head. He lets out a lengthy moan, bucking up into your hand. You guide his tip to your entrance, letting it brush up against your folds along the way. He's trying his damn best not to let his moans get carried away, but as soon as you sink down onto his shaft, his inhibitions go out the door.

With Matt taken care of for the moment, you turn your attention to Ben. His hands are on your hips, helping to keep you steady as Matt thrusts up into you at an erratic rhythm. You look back at him over your shoulder, eyes hooded with lust as you push your ass back into him. He seems to get the message, sliding his hands from your hips to your ass. He fondles the flesh there, admiring how you jolt when he gives you a few light spanks. It doesn't take long for him to push his jeans and underwear out of the way. He nestles his nose into your hair as he gingerly pushes his cock into your ass. It's a full feeling, being completely stuffed by both of the brothers. But it tightens the coil in your lower stomach, igniting with a familiar burn.

You look lazily over to Kylo and beckon him over to you. He's been rather quiet the whole time, but you could see the way he was palming himself as the sight of his brother fucking you. He already has his pants and underwear pushed down to his knees, and he sort of waddles closer to you when you call him over. With a weak grip, you begin to jerk him off, trying as hard as you can to focus on keeping your grip firm enough to give you pleasure.

All of you continue on like this, with Kylo sneaking his hand back to your clit to help you along. Matt is the first to cum, a few droplets leak out of you as he finishes. Kylo is next, and your hand is coated in his seed, to which he shows no shame. You cum next, clenching around Matt's overstimulated cock causing him to whimper with pleasure. Lastly, Ben is able to pull out before he finishes, letting his cum decorate your backside.

Fully spent and left with an empty feeling, you lie down against Matt, with Ben collapsing on top of both of you. Kylo rests back against the headboard next to Matt.

You raise your head to glance at Kylo, “I'm sorry I made fun of your fashion sense.”

You look back to Matt and press a kiss against his forehead, “And I'm sorry I was so mean to you.”

Matt is dazed and looking at you like a lovesick puppy. You guess he's just happy to have lost his virginity.

Kylo merely shrugs. “It's alright, besides, you can make up for it,” he says as he pushes Ben off of you. Ben groans and rolls off to the other side of Matt. Kylo’s hands grab your hips and pull you over into his lap. “I haven't gotten to cum in you yet.”


End file.
